Mike Shayne Mystery Magazine, Vol. 8, No. 6, May 1961

“Who’s that Adrienne Moore?” said Evangeline.

“She’s quite famous,” confidentially whispered Ken Burns.

“I’ve seen your pictures in the Hammer Galleries. Just wonderful. I’d imagined you much older,” said Blinney.

“Well, thank you.”

“So you’d like to do him,” said Evangeline.

“Yes. Very much. Marvelous face.”

“Maybe you ought to see the rest of him.”

“Would I need your permission?”

“Now, girls, girls,” said Ken Burns.

“Really? I mean, you would like to paint me?” said Blinney.

“The face,” said Miss Moore. “It appears that Miss Ashley has a vociferous vested interest in the remainder.”

“And it looks like you’re trying to do a little trespassing on my vested interests, baby-doll,” said Miss Ashley.

“Ha, ha,” said Ken Burns, nervously. He was tall, fat, and balding, and his voice was high-pitched.

“What would you call it?” said Blinney.

“I beg your pardon?” said Miss Moore.

“The face,” said Blinney. “You know. Paintings have names, don’t they?”

“Not portraits,” she said, and then she smiled. “Passion and Passivity,” she said.

“Oh no!” Evangeline rose. “That ties it! Come on, Passion and Passivity! Waiter, the check! Bye, all! It was nothing!”

“Ha, ha,” said Ken Burns.

VII

It was late when they left the night club. The streets were hot, deserted. They walked in silence. Then she said, “That bambino was really on the make.”

“Nonsense,” said Blinney. “I was kidding, and she kidded right back.”

“Maybe you were kidding, but that chick was on the make.”

He looked at her. “Don’t tell me you’re... you’re...”

“Well, say it, goof.”

“Jealous. I mean...”

“I am.”

“Well, that’s the first real nice darn thing—”

“Haven’t you ever said damn?” said Evangeline.

“Perhaps. I don’t really—”

“You’re cute. You know? Cute. Really. Damned cute.”

“Look, Evangeline, I want to say, about us...”

And then he was there before them. On a dim unpeopled street, in the hot night, suddenly he loomed before them. He was very tall, with wide high shoulders, a square swarthy face, and bushy hair.

“Miss Ashley,” he said. His voice was coarse, deep, a growl.

“What?” she said. “What is it? What do you want?”

“Do you know him?” said Blinney.

“No,” she said.

“Get away,” said Blinney.

“Butt out, snotnose,” said the swarthy man.

Blinney pushed at the man’s shoulder. “Get away, please.”

“Oh oh, a wise guy” said the swarthy man. “You’ll catch a piece soon. After I finish with Miss Ashley. You I’ll come to. Nobody puts a hand on Ronald. Ronald is allergic to hands.”

“Who’s Ronald?” said Evangeline.

“I’m Ronald” said the swarthy man.

“Do you know him?” said Blinney.

“No. No.” She shook her head emphatically.

Blinney pushed at Ronald’s chest. “Now please let us alone,” he said.

“That’s twice, snotnose. Hang around. Don’t go away. First, Miss Ashley.”

“What is it?” she said sharply.

“I got a message for you.”

“From whom?”

“From someone who knew Senor. He’s got a finger in the pie, and he has to safeguard his interests.” Ronald’s voice hardened. “Now this is the message. The message is that you are an embarrassment. This friend of Senor’s don’t have nothing against you personal, but he don’t want you around to stir up trouble. Senor left behind a very nice setup. This friend says you get out of the state by April First, you know, like April Fool’s Day. That’s the message. You get out, and everything’s nice, and the whole thing’s a closed up deal.

“You don’t get out, and you’re asking for trouble. This friend of Senor’s is a kind man. He don’t want you should have trouble. Who needs trouble? He knows what really happened. And is also a friend of Little Dee. So get out, go someplace, period, by April One. He’s giving you a little time like to pack up. So be a nice little broad and scram.”

“Now see here,” said Blinney.

“You I’m coming to,” said Ronald.

“Do you know what he’s talking about?” said Blinney.

“Not at all,” said Evangeline.

“Like hell she don’t,” said Ronald.

“He must be mistaking me for someone else,” said Evangeline.

“If that’s the way you want it, sweetie” — Ronald looked knowingly at Blinney — “so that’s the way it is. I’m mistaking you for some one else.”

“And even if I were the person, is this the best place you could pick to talk to me?”

“Sweetie, I been tailing you around all over town. I wanted to talk to you alone. Figured this was the best place to talk, even though you got snotnose with you.”

“Have you talked?” said Blinney.

“I have talked,” said Ronald.

“Then get away, if you please. Go away.”

“Not yet, shmuck. Now I come to you. With the chick I got orders to be nice. But I got no orders to be nice with a shmuck with a big mouth and easy with the hands. It is a pleasure I did not expect. Okay, snotnose, now I come to you.”